


Potentials

by phantomwise



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Drabble, Gen, Original Character(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-21
Updated: 2013-04-21
Packaged: 2017-12-09 02:52:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 1,929
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/769121
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phantomwise/pseuds/phantomwise
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A glimpse into the lives of some Storybrooke residents that Emma Swan and company may not have met yet. Or, a wish list of fairytale and fantasy characters that would be fun to see on Once Upon A Time. All drabbles take place after Season 1.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Scales

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Grumpy listens as a local siren sings the hits, and tells him a thing or two about letting go.

Very few women ever went to the bar by the docks. Not even a few, now that Grumpy thought about it, just the one. A slight, scrawny thing, she would have been overlooked even at the bar if it weren’t for two things: her hair (red. Not carrot red, no, but bright red, the hue of coral reefs deep under the sea, and skies that sailors take warning from) and her voice. She could hit every note, change her voice to fit every song. At the bar, when the guys sang drinking songs, or when an old rock song that everyone knew started to play, she would sing along, Storybrooke’s own Janis Joplin, a green bottle serving as her microphone as she sang in her little corner in the bar, her chair serving as one of those stools you’d see in a recording studio. She would still be singing at closing time, her voice now changing into something higher, sweeter, as the bartender helped her get to the ramp in the back of the bar.

After the curse broke, Grumpy didn’t think he’d see her there, at the bar by the docks, and yet went he went there that night (because when one of your best friends and her daughter get swept away into another world, you need a drink, possibly two) there she was, leading the patrons in what could only be described as track one in the Enchanted Forest’s greatest hits:

> _Sigh no more, ladies, sigh no more,_  
>  _Men were deceivers ever_  
>  _One foot in the sea and on the shore,_  
>  _To one thing constant never…_

When she left at closing time, Grumpy followed the misfit siren, and asked her what she was doing there. He had remembered hearing a song about her and the human she loved, back in the Enchanted Forest, he told her as the stood near the edge of the docks. Now that the curse was broken, Grumpy asked, shouldn’t she be with her true love?

Ariel shook her head. Sometimes, she said, you had to accept that the person you loved could never love you back, that you weren’t their true love, that their happy ending didn’t include you. Sometimes, you had to accept that your life was going to be cursed, until you could let them go.

There were no storms, but the wind was strong that night, spawning waves that crashed against the docks and shore. One wave hit the docks hard while the once-mermaid spoke, sending salt water spray everywhere. Grumpy took a step back, lowering his head as he did so. When he looked up, she was gone. He thought he could hear her though, her voice high and sweet, but barely audible. Or maybe it was the wind, the alcohol, and whatever Dreaminess he had left in him, it was hard to tell which.


	2. Teeth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A transcript from a session between Doctor Hopper and one of his clients.

A. HOPPER: I understand what you’re saying, Miss West: not being able to remember your old life must be frustrating, especially when everyone around you can recall their own. But you shouldn’t let that stop you from living your life here. It’s like David said the other day, we are both. Even if you had your memories from the Enchanted Forest, you would still have to accept the memories you have of your life in Storybrooke.

I. WEST: I know, it’s just [.] Life before the curse was difficult, but I thought I knew who I was—Ingrid West. Neurotic, complete insomniac, but it, it wasn’t a bad life. Now it’s just [[sighs]]. Everyone in this town seems to think that having the curse broken was a good thing, but it’s left me with more questions than answers, and I feel, I feel like no one is going to understand what’s happening to me. There’s just, just no one to talk to about this.

A. HOPPER: Well, what kind of questions do you have?

[Silence. I. West shifts in her seat]

A. HOPPER: Miss West, Ingrid, I want to help you, and I think that I can, but I need you to -

I. WEST: I’ve been sleepwalking. [[Quickly]] Not all over town, just my apartment complex, not that that’s great, either. I woke up in the stairwell the other day, scared the daylights out of Mary Mar - I mean, Snow White.

A. HOPPER: Well, stress has been known to cause sleepwalking, and it’s safe that the past few weeks have been [2] difficult, to say the least. [.] Is there something else happening, in addition to the sleepwalking?

I. WEST: Dreams, I guess. I mean, I don’t always have them, or maybe I don’t always remember them, but when I do, they’re very strange.

A. HOPPER: How so?

I. WEST: They’re just flashes, really. Just these bits and pieces of pictures and conversations. Nothing I remember seeing in my dreams really matches up to what people say the Enchanted Forest looks like, but it feels so [2] familiar.

A . HOPPER: Do you think they’re flashbacks to your old life?

I. WEST: Maybe? I don’t know. They’ve been [.] changing recently. The dreams started off normal, not that the word really has any meaning here. I’d be talking with a friend, or watching ships come in, or I’d be with this, um, this guy, and [.] they were nice, you know? Confusing, but nice.  Then, the dreams started to be about this, this garden, at night, and these little flashes of green mist, and a wolf, and these [inaudible] –

[[Loud buzzing sound, followed by, _“Doctor Hopper? Are you in?”_ ]]

A. HOPPER: [[inaudible, then softly:]] I thought we had more time than that. [[to I. West]] If you’ll excuse me, Miss West, I’ll ask them to-

I. WEST: No, it’s okay. I can go now.

A. HOPPER: Right then. I don’t have any more openings today, but tomorrow, I have some space after 2:30, if you’re available then.

I. WEST: Tomorrow at 2:30 is fine, thanks.

A. HOPPER: You’re welcome. [2] Oh, one more thing, as the buzzer was going off, you were describing something you saw in your dream. What was it?

I. WEST: [.] Teeth.  In my last dream, the last thing I remember seeing before I woke up was a set of white teeth, hanging above me, I couldn’t make out the-

[[Loud buzzing sound. _“Dr. Hopper? Hello?”_ ]]

I. WEST: I guess it can wait until tomorrow. I’ll see you around, Dr. Hopper. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Transcription symbols: underlined words indicate words spoken with emphasis, [.] is a short pause, [2] is a two second pause, - after a word is a word cut short, [[ ]] are actions, sounds, or explanations made by the author. 
> 
> Many thanks to my friend Julie, who showed me how to write a transcript! <3


	3. Momeraths Outgrabe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jefferson and Emma Swan seek help from an unusual source.

“What makes you so sure that your friend will show up?” Emma asked Jefferson as they walked deeper into the woods. 

“She sent me a calling card.” Jefferson tossed her something—a marble? _Not quite,_ Emma realized as she caught the small stone. It was dark purple, with a band of white at the center. _A cat’s eye._

If the situation had been less dire, Emma would have rolled her eyes as she put two and two together. “If you’re the Mad Hatter, then—“

“Why ask a question you already know the answer to?” Jefferson and Emma spun around to see a woman leaning against the tree behind them. How did they not see her sooner, Emma wondered, when the woman was dressed head to toe in varying shades of purple? She smiled at the two of them, not without mirth, although what she found funny about meeting two people in the middle of the woods at night Emma couldn’t guess.

“Emma Swan, princess of one world and lawman of another,” said the Cheshire Cat, “You’ll forgive me if I don’t curtsey. And Jefferson, the mad thief! You’re a sight for sore eyes.”

“As are you, Cat,” Jefferson said, arms folded, “Especially since I don’t remember seeing you in town for the last 28 years. How are you in Storybrooke?”

The Cat continued to smile. “That’s a question with many possible answers. Maybe your house doesn’t offer you as wide a view of the town as you thought, Jefferson. Or maybe it’s harder to seal this world off from others than the Queen and the Lizard think, hm? Either way, it’s a question that will have to wait. A better question to ask now is,” she disappeared, no smoke or ripple effect to indicate the change, and reappeared between Jefferson and Emma, “what on earth do you need my skills for?”


	4. Pipes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A young man discovers magic has come to Storybrooke.

The man sat in the basement of the apartment complex, turning the pan-pipe over and over in his hands. Ever since the day the curse had broke, ever since that purple smoke had rolled in, something in the little pipe had changed. He knew who he was now, he knew what he used to do with the pan-pipe, but he had practiced playing many times over the past 28 years—nothing exciting had ever happened with it. _That smoke, though._ If that smoke meant what he thought it meant, then…

There was only one to find out. He began to blow into the instrument. Nothing fancy, nothing recognizable, just different notes. _A, B, C_. _G, D, F G._ _G, G, A, A, C_ — 

 _Squeak._ He stopped, and listened to the sounds around him, eyes closed, fearful. What if it wasn't real? What if he was just imagining it? _Squeak, squeak._

The man opened his eyes. Surrounding him in neat, concentric circles were at least twenty or so rats. They sat upright, waiting for the next note.

Peter Hamelin smiled. Life in Storybrooke was about to get very interesting. 


	5. Chicken Legs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Emma Swan tries to convince an elderly woman to leave her trailer in the woods for the safety of another structure. The woman has other ideas.

Emma clenched her teeth as she sat down at the little table in the trailer. She was beginning to think that the only way the old lady in front of her would leave the trailer was if she whacked the crone over the head with the tea kettle resting on the table between them, then carried out to her car back on the road.

 _If at first you don’t succeed_. “Look, ma’am, I know this can’t be easy for you, but we have to go now. Regina’s on a rampage and my—“ she stopped, still unused to calling Mary Margaret and David her, well, you know, “my sources tell me that you’re her target.”

The old woman (what was her name again, Babs, Barbara Yakovleva?) cackled.

“Of course she’s after me! Tried to have me killed when she learned that I gave your mum that Blood of Artemis potion. Never really liked me before that, either. Refused to teach her, you see. Anyone who gets the first taste of magic from good ol’ Rumple, they’re, well—what’s the name of that one fellow from this world? Oh yes, _Vader_. That’s it. You start working under Rumple, you’re a Vader on the make, I say.

Anyways, we won’t have to worry about her for quite a bit,” the old woman explained, pouring herself another cup of tea. “Regina’s never been very good with moving targets.”

Why hadn’t Emma grabbed the kettle yet? “I’m sorry, Ms. Yakovleva, moving target? Even if your trailer was connected to a car, you still don’t have any tires for—“ Emma Swan’s perfectly logical explanation about why the trailer couldn’t move in its current condition was cut off when the trailer suddenly began to move. It swayed to the left, then to the right, and then began to move quickly, if somewhat unevenly, into the forest. 

The woman who had been called Barbara Yakovleva in Storybrooke grinned at the flabbergasted Emma. “No wheels,” she admitted, “But I do have legs. Should do us the trick. And please, call me Baba Yaga. Regina’s pet names are about as clever as a courtier’s joke. Now, would you like another cup of tea?”


End file.
